


A Twisted Sorta Love

by TheDeadAreWalking



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:12:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeadAreWalking/pseuds/TheDeadAreWalking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and Dean are both serial killers. They have never meet but have always been all over the news and communicate to each other through video tapes. Their goals are to kill each other but when they finally meet things don't go as planned.</p><p>Rating may change.</p><p> </p><p>From a post on Tumblr kinda promt?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. God and the other

**Author's Note:**

> Okie so I hope this doesn't um..suck?
> 
> There are two Easter eggs in here for you if you are in either of the following fandoms  
> 1\. Deathnote  
> 2\. Jeff The Killer (Creepypasta)
> 
> Well good luck and godspeed. Sorry for any spelling and grammar errors!

_Back and forth, back and forth..._

_Over and over..._

_Round and round we go..._

I am justice and he is God. I and my brother do the work in the name of justice. _He_ only does it for himself. I don't know a thing about him just what he does. So here I am again, its cold and raining, in my hand is half a bottle of whiskey. The people above me are shaking the bed so much small pieces of plaster are falling from the ceiling. I could care less and didn't even notice until a few nearly fell in my bottle, my mind was elsewhere. I wonder if I was at home if i would have plaster in my booze but I have no home. I have my car, my baby is a 1967 black Chevy Impala, it's the omly home I have ever had since _that night_. But i dont want to think about that, I need to focus.

I look glance down at my watch, its two minutes to ten on the second Friday of the month. _He_ would have just finished working a few hours ago, its going to on the news. My eyes scale across the motel room, a small TV,  a barely standing table, A moth eaten couch, a full bath,  and two mostly clean beds, one of which my brother, Sam, is sleeping in. I can never understand why he doesn't wait for the news and instead goes to bed. Energy, he says. Pussy, I say. It was the nicest motel that we have stayed in for months. Finding a motel room to stay in was hard for them and often impossible, sleeping in the Impala wasn't uncommon. I stood up and turned on the television to the local news station watching until at ten it switches to the nightly news.

I watched and waited, I knew what the first story was going to be. Its the same story that they tell ever second Friday of the month. I have been waiting for tonight since the last second Friday of the last month. Its been clawing away in my head, I need to see _his_ face, I have to see this. I feel a small smile slide across my lips as I see the national news switch on from the local news and then there I am staring at the lovely, Kandice Kelly, brown eyes and fake blonde hair to go perfectly with her fake boobs. I could tell in her eyes that he was again the top story of the night. _Perfect, right on schedule._

"Hello and this Kandice Kelly with your nightly news," her voice was quiet and sad and it only made me smile wider, "It's July 11th 2014 and our top story of the night is again the unknown killer that is still at large. His true identity remains anonymous to the authorities all we know is he is picking seemingly random locations and," she paused as if for dramatic effect because apparently thats what they teach you. I had to contain a sigh, "killing everyone there. Just mere hours ago we received word that he had targeted and executed everyone at the US bank at Springfield, Illinois on 6th street. The death toll is 12, 10 adults,2 children, and 3 people working at the time. We have video from the surveillance, it has been edited because the full footage is to graphic but be warned even what we will show you is just as terrifying. I must advice that anyone under 18 not watch this."

I inched closer to the screen without even knowing, I had to play attention to every move _he_ made. The video footage started up and I felt myself vibrating with some twisted excitement. There _he_ was standing in the middle of the bank, they blurred out the floor and his feet but I knew that that was where all of those people _he_ had just slaughtered were. _He_ was wearing his trench coat, _he_ always had a trench coat on, splattered across it was sprays of blood. Most of it was old looking, dried and hardened but there were fresh drops across it too. It made _him_ look holy and fierce. I could feel my heart speed up as I watched _his_ face. _He_ was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes on. I knew any second now _he_ would do it. _He_ always does it ever since we started our little dance. Again Sam things I'm crazy, that I'm over thinking it, that I'm just being paranoid. But I know its for me and only me to understand, to read, to communicate with.

 _He_ looked up at the camera, slowly turned to it and.... _smiled_. It was a cold smile with a deep hidden message in it.

 _He knew_. _He_ knew I was closing in on _him_. _He_ knew I had figured out _his_ hunting pattern. I was so close I could feel the barrel of my gun pressed to _his_ temple. I could feel my hands around _his_ throat as _he_ took _his_ last breath. I knew _he_ would fight. I knew we would talk before it happened but it would happen. I had a twisted love for _him_. It was the darkest feeling of love one could have and I needed to fill it.

My name is Dean Winchester and I am hunting this man.

My name is Dean Winchester and I love this man.

My name is Dean Winchester and I will find this man.

My name is Dean Winchester and I will kill this man.

I am Dean Winchester and I am a serial killer.


	2. I am who I am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel remembers who he used to be and thinks about someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THIS!!!!!!
> 
> This chapter is not good. I will never again write a chapter like this. Never. Never from Castiels POV unless 100% needed. I can't do this. This is a TRAIN WRECK!  
> I promise you. PROMISE! The next one will be back to Sam and Dean.
> 
> Please read the chapter with a grain of salt. Read THE END NOTE! I'm going to explain what you read.

His name is Dean Winchester. It really hadn't taken much to figure something as simple as his name out, after all his face was all over the news anymore, him and his brother rapidly becoming major problems and climbing the most wanted list. I could feel him closing in on me, it felt like an icy hand was closing around my throat, I relish in it. I love the feeling of being hunted, of being followed and figured out. Of course the police were after me too but so far they figured out as much about me as they do Bigfoot. No, Dean has figured out my little pattern much too fast to go unnoticed. I knew he would be watching me right now, not literally watching me because that would mean major problems in all my plans but on watching me on TV. I bet he was obsessing over it. Trying to figure me out, figure out why I was doing it, figure out who I was.

Who was I? What was my motive? My angle?

I am no one. I am simply doing what I am told. I am doing God's will. I am the avenging Angel of The Lord. But I wouldn't guess that that was the answer you were looking for. Likely a simpler explanation would make you happy.

My name is Castiel Novak. I was born in Pontiac, Illinois. Once upon a time, I had a lovely house, a beautiful wife, and my precious daughter. I was happy. I had a job that paid the bills and would always come home to a warm house and a hot meal. Everyday when I walked through the front door my daughter would run up to give me a hug and ask me how my day was. Everyday my wife would walk by and give an brief kiss before heading to the kitchen. Every night at diner I would say grace and then we would eat. It was always good and I never complained about anything other than a football game or the bills. I would do the dishes along side of my wive while humming along to the radio. We always had the radio on. I would sleep through the night curled around my wife and wake up just to start my perfect day over again. Life was simply perfect.

But see I guess nothing is ever perfect really? I am I guess I can only have luck for so long before everything just turns to shit. Complete and utter shit. It had been my normal perfect day and I was just coming home. I opened the door with a smile waiting for my precious daughter to come and give me my welcome hug. But it never came, it would never come again. I had guessed, at the time, that maybe my wife and my daughter had went out for the day together. It wasn't unusual that the two of them would go to the mall and get a pizza. I walked into the kitchen to look for a note. There was always a note when they would leave just telling me to make my own diner, not burn down the house, and remember to turn the oven off. But there was no note.

No I didn't find a note what I found was my wive and daughter shot to death on the kitchen floor. I'm not talking about some single shot to the head or accident, it looked like whoever did it had emptied a round into each of them. I should have cried, screamed, called the police, fallen to a ruined mess on the floor but I didn't. At first I felt panic, and intense crippling fear before it just stopped and then? Then I didn't feel anything. I didn't even really give my dead family a second glance. What I did notice was that the radio was playing. It was an unusual station, one we never much listened to that played old songs. I had recognized the song it was playing, something my mother had hummed when I was small. I looked back down at the two bodies on the floor, it's weird how much expression showed on the dead. They both looked shocked and scared, I wondered vaguely who did it? But couldn't find it in myself to really care, I just stepped over them and approached the radio. The song was beautiful.

' _Heaven, I'm in heaven,_  
 _And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak_  
 _And I seem to find the happiness I seek_  
 _When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek,'_

I started humming along as the song drift around the room like thick molasses. I started to let my eyelids drift. I'm sure I was going to fall asleep any second even though I was standing up but then I heard a shuffle from upstairs. My eyes slid open as I lifted my head to look at the ceiling. I wondered if this was the man who had killed my wife and daughter? It probably was. I walked over to the counter and pulled the chef knife from the knife holder. I looked down at the blade, I could see my own reflection and it looked sharp enough to cut a strand of hair down the center. Perfect.

I remember walking up the stairs and going into the master bedroom. I remember seeing a man, wearing all black swing around as he heard me. I remember him struggling to get his gun and then I remember killing him. Somehow I had gotten behind him and had the knife to his throat. I don't remember moving from the door way or even getting behind him, but I did. The man begged me to let him go saying that my wife had startled him and the he didn't mean to do it. But I really didn't care what he did to them. I really just wanted to see how sharp the knife really was.

"Shhhh it's ok, everything is ok trust me...I'm an Angel of The Lord," I don't remember why I said that but I felt right. What possessed me to do what I did next, I don't know, but I did. I started to sing, soft and gently barely above a whisper, " _Heaven......I'm in heaven.._.," I moved the knife to his throat and pressed the blade across his throat slowly, hearing him whimper and start to struggle. I tightened my grab and felt his pulse beating so fast I could imagine his heart burst out of his chest any second. " _And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak,_ " I saw a thick line of blood roll across the knife and over my hands. It was amazing feeling, thick and red almost like syrup. The deeper I pressed in the less the man struggled. I held him tighter to my chest as his legs gave out under him and pressed my face to the side of his, any second he was going to slip into a sleep he would never awake from. I had to finish singing him to sleep though. " _When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek,"_ he let out one last gurgled breath, blood flowing from the smile across his neck and trickling from his mouth before falling still and silent in my arms.

I laid him down on the floor and the I remember....I remember...

See this is were things get fuzzy again because the moment I laid him down I can't remember what happened, except one thing. I remember is laughing. The feeling of pure _joy_ and relieve and of laughing.

Since that night I have for hired out the it is all Gods plan for me. He wants me to kill. He wants me doing this. That is why he sent that man to my house that day all that time again. Now God has given me a mission, _kill that which is evil so that which is good may flourish,_ so that is what I do. The problem is everyone is evil.

I don't have much of a pattern to where I move. I drive for a day or two and end up in some state. It doesn't much matter. What does matter is where I hit. It's a simple pattern I made just to give the cops something but still they haven't figured it out. It goes from bank to hospital to school to store to park to hospital to bank to park to store to school. It's pathetic simply, especially when I'm going throw the cycle the fourth time but one person figured it out only one cycle through.

He is always either in the same state, a state behind, or ahead in a pathetic hope to catch me. He's tried many times but so far has never managed to even come close, that is until lately. The chase is maddeningly blissful but as of late I want to meet him. I want to kill him, the itch to sing to him, to feel his life slip out from him is so pleasurable that I could just-

I love Dean Winchester. I nearly fall over at the revolution. How could I need to kill him so much but need to own him and posses him even more? No. That isn't the mission, the mission is to kill. I am going to let him find me soon.

My mission is to kill Dean Winchester

You're my mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You likely thinking what the hell was that?
> 
> Well it was shit!
> 
> And a Captain America: The Winter Soilder reference.
> 
> What I want everyone to take from this shitty chapter is that Castiel Novak's family was murdered and he just snapped.
> 
> He believes he is doing good for the world and has developed an obesstion for Dean beacause Dean is chasing him and figuring him out.
> 
> Please. Ask. Me. Questions.
> 
> This was a major fuck up and I haven't sleep in two days and I don't know what's what and this is not beta'd and I'm sorry!
> 
> If anyone would want to maybe co write (More like me bonce everything off of you) or beta (means you get the chapter a head of time) please let me know!
> 
> ALSO should I move the rating to Mature or nah?
> 
> Im gonna post oh god I don't wanna!


	3. One step closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finds something worth Dean's time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a year! This is trash an I am also

Dean felt a hand shake him. He was going to ignore it he was having a really great dream. It was filled with his angel. "Dean, fucking get up. We have to go." Dean just mumbled and went to roll over in bed when he rolled out of his chair and fell face first onto the floor. Fuck, he slept on the chair didn't he.

"And why is that?" Dean mumbled looking up at his brother. He looked fully awake, should be illegal being awake at, he looked at his watch and groaned, ten in the morning, he should be up actually. 

"Because I know where he's going to be," Sam says nearly jumping out of his skin. 

"Who the hell are you going on about?" Dean said picking himself up from the floor and wiping down the room of fingerprints.

"The guy, your guy, but I mean if you don't care then fine, its only like you made us jump out of small times crimes and into the ocean," Sam turned around a smirk on his face. "Whatever, Dean I'm not the one obsessed here." 

Dean straightened up. "Tell me." 

"God, looks who's all interested now Mr. Who the-"

"Sammy," Dean whispered, Sam felt his blood run cold. He loved his brother. He honestly did, but he was messed up. It must sound rich coming from him, serial killer and all but Dean was different. Sam questioned how much of a soul he had left. Sam could barely sleep at night most times he didn't he would just lay still with his eyes closed and remember when he was happy. 

There was a time when he thought he was out of the family. No more stealing, no more drunk dad and abuse at night when he thought no one would hear them scream. He had made it into college. He was gone but then Dean found him. Said he was in trouble. It only took a glance to know it was true, he was covered in blood. He said he needed help and a shovel. He told Jess, he lovely girlfriend, he had to go away. He went with Dean, all the way home.

The car was silent. Dean didn't say a word, it wasn't like him. Something was different. When they got to the old house Dean told him to just help him. He still had no clue what he meant. Dean took him through the house to the backyard. Sam stopped in the kitchen, it was covered in blood. He remembers asking where dad was. He would soon find out. 

Dean had killed him. But... he hadn't just killed him he had tortured him... his nails were pulled out, hair pulled out along with junks of flesh, his insides were on the outside, one of his eyes looked cut, the list went on. Sam will admit his threw up, more than once all the while his brother said nothing just started digging a hole. 

Sam remembers sitting on the ground numb, what should he do about Dean? He was insane. He had to turn him in, one part said. Another argued, it's your brother and your father was a horrible man. For the first time that night Dean said something. 

"He wasn't even doing anything. He was just sitting at the table doing nothing. It was too easy to just do it. I had to do it, Sammy. Not because of who he was even... I... I just had to do it." Sam threw up again. 

He helped Dean drag the body into the grave and clean the blood from the kitchen. It gave him time to figure out what to do with Dean. He would find an excuse to go out and get the cops. It would be that simple. "Sammy, come into the car with me." 

Sam paused. "Why?" 

"We have to go," Dean had said. 

"Dean, I can't go anywhere with you. I have school and Jess."

"If-if you don't come with me I'll kill her..."

"Excuse me? Dean what the fucking hell is wrong with you?"

"Sammy," Sam had never heard that voice before. It made chills run up his spine. "get in the fucking car we are going."

And here it was again, "Sammy, tell me where he's going to be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Trash person sends you trash.   
> Still never beta'd!

**Author's Note:**

> So? Did it suck?! Please tell me if it did so I don't but the energy into continuing! Did you find the Easter eggs? I plan to do that each chapter! Next are Iron Man and Captain America?!


End file.
